Stag nite
by narcissus-snake
Summary: It was Harry's stag night and they had just about done everything on the list; everything apart from the obligatory strip joint. Rated NC-17


It was Harry's stag night and they had just about done everything on the list; everything apart from the obligatory strip joint, which was why they were currently in the queue for _Skin. _It would be an absolute miracle if they all got in, especially seeing as some of them couldn't even remember their own names, but nonetheless, when they reached the front, they were ushered through.

"Mr. Potter, such a pleasure." the proprietor crooned, beckoning over a scantily clad waitress. "This is Penny - she'll get you anything you need."

"Right," Harry mumbled, acutely embarrassed. "Pints all round, thanks."

But that at least explained how they all got in unchallenged.

"Would you check out the pair on that one," Seamus hooted and collapsed into an empty chair by the stage, staring goggle-eyed up at the girl currently gyrating around a pole. Neville rarely felt so out of place, but as the others settled in for the show, he found himself wondering off in search of something else; although he had no idea what the something else might be.

"Mr. Longbottom," It was the proprietor again, smiling at him like the cat who got the cream. "Perhaps you might find something more to your fancy over here."

It was true that he'd never kept his sexuality a secret and so wasn't too surprised to find himself led towards the male dancers. His gaze slowly wondered the room, looking for something of interest, and eventually spotted it tucked away at the back almost completely hidden behind a pillar.

At first he was certain that he was mistaken, but as he got closer his doubt evaporated, and all he could do was stand and stare, dumbstruck, as he watched Draco Malfoy glide up and down the metal pole in perfect rhythm with the music, snaking his leg around it and releasing it, catching it with his hand, executing a perfect spin.

Neville could see his muscles flexing, accentuated by the light sheen of sweat Malfoy was developing from the exercise.

But the sensual ease of his dance faltered when he realised who it was watching him, and he came to a stumbling halt, the look on his face perfectly matching the words that came out of his mouth:

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

"Ah, stag-do." Neville replied, pointing back over his shoulder to the others.

Neither of them spoke, and eventually Malfoy looked away.

"Are you going to tell them I'm here?"

Neville shook his head: "But, what _are_ you doing here?"

Malfoy's features visibly hardened: "I work here."

Neville had been drinking since about ten o'clock that morning, which was probably why he wasn't able to make much sense of the conversation; in fact, all he could actually think about was the swell of Malfoy's hips in those way too tight trousers.

"You work here," Neville repeated doubtfully. "Why?"

"Why not?" Malfoy replied.

Neville blinked at him.

"Would you like me to dance for you?" Malfoy offered, his eyes gleaming with amusement.

"No, thank you." Neville stammered, his cheeks tingeing red, realising only a second too late that that was the exact reaction Malfoy had expected; the same reaction he'd almost always got back in school, and one that made Neville both annoyed at his own predictability and at the fact that Malfoy had just made him feel as if he was back in fourth year and not an almost fully qualified Auror.

"Actually, yeah; why not?" Neville said, taking some small satisfaction in watching the laughter die in Malfoy's eyes. "Perhaps there's a private room we could go to."

"Whatever you want," Malfoy responded, without even a hint of protest.

And Neville suddenly wished he'd kept his mouth shut; the last thing he wanted tonight was Draco Malfoy giving him a lap-dance. Malfoy stepped towards the back of the stage and pulled back the curtain: "After you."

Not able to see any way to back out without looking like a complete twat, he climbed the few steps onto the stage and brushed past Malfoy into the small, intimate space.

"Y'know, every time I see you, you've changed just a little bit more." Malfoy muttered as he past and Neville thought he sounded almost nostalgic.

"For the better, I'm sure." Neville quipped.

"I'm not so sure."

Malfoy stepped closer, so close that they were practically touching, and then he gently pushed Neville down on to the plush sofa. At a softly spoken word, the music started playing, and Neville's heartbeat sped-up.

"Malfoy,"

"Be quiet, Longbottom."

Malfoy's hips rolled slowly in time with the music, picking up the rhythm and letting it guide him; he must have been no more than two feet away and Neville really had nowhere else to look. Lifting his arms gracefully up behind his head, Malfoy allowed Neville the perfect unobstructed line of his entire body; his softly undulating hips, his pale skin practically glowing in the spotlight.

Neville held his breath as one of Malfoy's hands sinuously trailed from his collarbone, to his adam's apple and then slowly down his chest, giving his belly button only a cursory stroke, before coming to rest on the waistband of his trousers; his fingers twining through one of the empty belt loops.

How had he never realised before now, just how extraordinarily beautiful Malfoy was?

Malfoy thrust his pelvis once, twice and then dropped to his knees, placed his hands on the carpet in front of him and began to slink towards Neville, his shoulders and hips rolling gracefully. When he had almost reached Neville's knee, he rocked back on his heels, placed one hand on the floor behind him and thrust upwards in time with the music.

Neville's mouth went dry and he closed his eyes; when he opened again, Malfoy was standing, his back to him and arched in such a way that his arse was presented magnificently for Neville's inspection; his hips rolled to the continuous beat of the music and Neville had to resist the urge to reach out and touch him.

Malfoy glanced over his shoulder at Neville and then followed the turn through; holding his gaze, he placed his hands on the sofa behind Neville's shoulders and slid one knee between his, the other swinging over to straddle his leg. Gently, he began to rub up and down his thigh, eliciting a strangled moan from Neville.

"Just breath," Malfoy purred near his ear. "It helps."

Neville let out his breath in a long exhale.

Malfoy smiled at him and licked his lips, before kneeling up and rocking against him, moving in a slow figure 8; it was impossible for him to hide the effect Malfoy was having on him, what with his cock pulsing just an inch from Malfoy's knee.

"Malfoy, I..."

"Shh," Malfoy prompted, blowing lightly in his ear.

Malfoy shifted slightly so that both his knees where now between Neville's, and then he leaned forward, pressing his hips, stomach and chest against Neville as he slid down his body to kneel before him on the floor. Neville wasn't entirely sure how much more of this he could take, especially with Malfoy staring up at him, his pupils dilated, and his lips parted invitingly.

He shivered as Malfoy placed his hands on Neville's knees and used them as support to stand up, his hips once again rolling in time with the music. He turned within the triangle of Neville's legs and once again placed his hands on Neville's knees, his back straight, lowering himself so that his arse was just brushing the fabric at Neville's crotch. Neville's heart pounded in his chest as Malfoy rolled his hips first in a small circular motion, and then forward and backward.

"Fuck me," Neville groaned and Malfoy glanced over his shoulder at him, amusement in his eyes; but right at that moment Neville couldn't care less.

The music slowly began to fade and once it had stopped, Malfoy lay back on him, sitting fully in his lap.

"Was that an offer?"

Neville's heart skipped a beat.

He could just get up and leave - and then regret it for the next how many years; or...

"Yes,"

Neville was so hard it hurt and Malfoy had made him this way - it had been a long time since he'd let anyone close enough to make him feel this way. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew that if he was sober, he wouldn't even be entertaining the thought.

Malfoy wriggled back against him, wringing a hissing moan from his lips, a hand moving back to unfasten the button on Neville's jeans, fingers working to slide down the zipper. Malfoy used Neville's knees once again to help himself to his feet, and then he turned and stared at Neville, slowly unfastening his own zipper and opening his trousers enough so that Neville could see the hard bulge of his cock.

Neville wanted him more than anything, wanted him inside, filling and owning him; and so to meet that end, he shucked as quickly as possible out of his jeans and underwear, exposing himself to Malfoy's gaze.

"You obviously enjoyed your dance very much," Malfoy quipped.

"Ditto,"

Malfoy smiled and stepped in between his legs, pulling him down so that his arse was just at the edge of the sofa; he once more dropped to his knees, but there was absolutely nothing submissive about it this time, he knelt up and thrust forward, entering Neville suddenly and completely.

Neville bit down on his lip to stifle the cry, willing his body to adjust quickly - Malfoy moved ever so slightly inside him, a slow, pumping motion, tiny little movements that gave them both just enough friction without caused too much discomfort. Neville was acutely thankful that Malfoy had thought to use lube before starting.

When Neville's body had relaxed enough, Malfoy pulled out and thrust back in - short, sharp, electrifying. Neville reached up with his right hand and gripped Malfoy's shoulder, angling his body just right, but Malfoy apparently had other plans: wrapping an arm around Neville, he lifted him slightly and turned them, laying Neville down on the carpet, before pulling his knee up over his shoulder and then setting up a fast and punishing pace that made Neville's body sing with joy.

He could never have imagined any variation of reality, that would have had him laying on the floor, in a back room of a Horizont Ally strip joint, being royal fucked up the arse by Draco Malfoy, but then life was strange.

It was a Friday night, it had been a long week, and Neville was most definitely up for a drink, or four, and so he headed back to _Skin_ - a decision he rather unsuccessfully told himself had absolutely nothing to do with the possibility of seeing Malfoy again. The place was a lot busier than it had been mid-week and the vibe was more dance club than strip club, although all the tables were still working.

Neville pushed his way through to the bar and ordered a pint, before retreating to a recently vacated table and letting his gaze wonder; and almost as soon as he looked, he saw: Draco Malfoy propping up the bar, drinking what looked like a firewhiskey over ice. Neville's breath hitched and he looked away, suddenly realising just how weird it was for him to be there, watching Malfoy, like a stalker; and he decided to finish up his drink and leave as quickly as possible.

Malfoy was alone, but every so often someone would approach him, usually a man, some words would be exchanged and then the someone would leave again.

But there was always one exception to the rule, and in this case it was a man who just didn't seem to want to leave Malfoy alone. Neville didn't like to eavesdrop but he too could make exceptions, and leaning forward slightly he heightened his hearing just enough to bring their conversation into range.

"I told you, I'm not working tonight," Malfoy said.

The man laughed: "Since when do whores get the night off?"

Malfoy didn't react to his words, but Neville choked on his drink.

"If you'd like to bring it up with someone who cares," Malfoy offered helpfully.

"How about you just be a good boy, and get on your knees?"

"I'm not working tonight." Malfoy repeated.

"You're working, if I say your working." the man hissed and grabbed Malfoy by the neck, bending him forward. "How'dya like that, eh?" he murmured, starting to rub himself against Malfoy.

Neville had seen enough, and reaching into his pocket to check he had his badge, he stood up, and pushed his way through the throng.

"I think that's enough," he said firmly and the man flicked him a look over his shoulder.

"Who the fuck are you?"

Neville showed him his badge, and as he knew would happen, the man pushed away from Malfoy faster then he could say 'fuck'.

"I paid to get in," the man exclaimed, as if that explained everything, and Neville just stared at him.

"I take it you don't want to press charges?" he asked in Malfoy's general direction and noted the shake of his head. "Get out of here now, before I arrest you for aggrieving an Auror."

The man turned tail and ran.

Neville slowly turned to Malfoy, feeling distinctly horrified, but rather than show it he said lightly: "Technically, I'm not quite an Auror yet; the badge does say trainee."

Malfoy turned back to the bar and picked up his drink, taking a sip before saying: "What are you doing back here, Longbottom? If you're not careful, people will start thinking you're a regular."

Neville shrugged: "Are you ok?"

Malfoy inhaled and exhaled slowly: "Yes." and after a moment: "Can I get you a drink?"

Neville's breath hitched again.

"I was just about to leave, but thank you."

Malfoy turned back to face him.

"I know why you're here,"

"Do you?"

He nodded.

Neville really hoped he didn't - it was already embarrassing enough.

"Would you like to come home with me?"

Oh shit! - he really did know why Neville was there. Malfoy smiled slightly at the flush of his cheeks, and waited for his answer. The truth was that, since the night of the stag-do, just the thought of Malfoy gave him a boner, and now he was being offered another night of mind-blowing sex; and while his mind whispered that he shouldn't, his body screamed 'good god yes'.

"I wouldn't have to pay, would I?" he quipped, regretting it the second he said it; but rather than be offended, Malfoy actually laughed, leaning back against the bar, and crossing his arms at his chest, a pose so reminiscent of their school days that Neville actually shivered.

"Generally the one doing the fucking pays, so, if we follow that through, I should be paying you."

The implication that Neville would therefore be Malfoy's whore, sent another shiver down his spine and straight to his cock.

"Well, seeing that vice is a crime, I would, at some point during the evening, be obliged by law to arrest one of us, so I think maybe we should forget about any kind of payment."

"I think that's wise."

Neville knew that Malfoy was just humouring him but, all things considered, that was far better than deriding him; and it was obvious that they both wanted the same outcome for this evening.

"It'd be a pleasure to go home with you."

"Yes, indeed." Malfoy purred, before leaning over the bar, and grabbing an open bottle of firewhiskey and two glasses; he then turning and headed toward the stairs. Neville hesitated causing Malfoy to look back at him: "Coming?"

Neville nodded and followed him up the stairs: "Do you live here?"

"Don't be silly," Malfoy chided, making him feel once again as if he were back at Hogwarts. "Floo network."

And as if to prove it, he took a handful of floo powder and threw it in the flames of the fire that dominated the landing.

"After you,"

Neville took a deep breath and stepped over the grate, stepping out again mere moments later into what must have been Malfoy's living room. It was nice. But it was even nicer to feel Malfoy step out of the flames behind him and lightly press his body up against Neville's back, first caressing and then nudging him out of the way.

Always ever obliging, Neville stepped out of the way, and watched as Malfoy put the glasses and firewhiskey on a side-table, brushing aside a photo of him and his parents in the process.

"Sorry about the mess, I wasn't expecting company."

Neville glanced around at the almost spotless space, noticing only a mug on the coffee table and a few plates in the open-plan kitchen.

"Really, you should see my place." Neville replied, shaking his head at the thought. "Actually, you shouldn't; not until I've sorted it out, anyway."

"Making future plans already, are you?" Malfoy quipped, kicking off his shoes and pouring them each a glass of the amber liquid.

"Cheers,"

Malfoy knocked his back in one, but Neville took only a small sip - his drink of choice was usually something far less toxic on his liver.

Neville looked at Malfoy and Malfoy looked back at him - Neville completely unsure as to whether he should make the first move or not.

"Would you like me to undress you?" Malfoy asked.

"Would you like to undress me?" Neville asked back.

"Yes,"

Neville's heartbeat sped up a few revs, and he stepped out of his own shoes.

"Malfoy," Neville began, but Malfoy put a finger to his lips and stepped in closer, his other hand reaching down to lightly pull Neville's shirt out from his trousers.

"Do you know my first name?" breathed in his ear.

"Of course," Neville replied in surprise.

"Then don't you think it would more appropriate, right at this particular moment in time?"

"Draco,"

Neville was certain he felt Draco's cock quiver against his thigh at the use of his first name.

"Yes, Neville."

And he instantly understood Draco's reaction, his own cock beginning to stand up and take notice.

"When you said, before, that every time you saw me, I changed a bit more; what did you mean?"

Draco, who was slowly undoing the buttons on Neville's shirt, briefly paused.

"I thought you were becoming more like them," he muttered cryptically, before ducking his head and lapping at the skin he had just exposed; a new button, a new bit of skin kissed and licked, little by little, down the line of Neville's chest, until Draco was on his knees in front of Neville and Neville was panting slightly in anticipation; all thought of whatever it was they'd been talking about completely wiped from his mind.

Draco reached for Neville's belt buckle and opened it, pulling the belt slowly out through the loops and letting it fall to the floor between them; but rather than pop the button on his trousers, Draco leaned in and nuzzled his face against Neville's crotch, rubbing his cheek over the fabric of Neville's trousers.

Neville gasped and reached out his hand, entwining his fingers in Draco's hair - if he carried on like this, Neville would be done before they even started.

"You're so hard for me, Neville."

Draco looked up at him and Neville's heart skipped a beat, practically holding his breath as Draco slid back up his body, crushing his own cock against Neville's and grinding slowly.

"Can you feel how hard I am for you?"

"Oh god," Neville groaned. "Draco."

He was too good at this.

"I think we'll be more comfortable in the bedroom," he muttered and Neville nodded, vaguely aware that even if Draco had said they'd be better off out in the street, he would still have nodded; Draco gently trailing his fingers down Neville's arm, took his hand and led him into the bedroom.

Neville's gaze took in the chest of drawers, the bedside tables, the lamps that seemed to turn on of their own accord, and the bed, unmade since that morning and no doubt smelling of Draco; the thought suddenly entering his mind that he too would soon smell of Draco.

Draco quickly shoved a pile of clothes onto the floor, and turned back to him, a sheepish smile on his face and Neville kissed him, hard and demanding; Draco's need first matched his and then overtook it, and he pushed Neville backwards onto the bed before promptly crawling up the length of him, and straddling his hips, rocking against him. Neville moaned as Draco's tongue lightly tracing his lips, his jaw, his neck, his collarbone.

"I want to be inside you now," Draco panted.

"I want you inside me now." Neville pleaded.

Draco moved back and stepped off the bed, reaching down to tug his t-shirt up and over his head, throwing it on top of the pile that was already there, before reaching for his belt buckle.

"Slow down, Draco." Neville muttered - despite his burning need for Draco, he still couldn't pass by the chance to watch him undress.

"You want me to strip for you?" Draco laughed, but did as Neville requested nonetheless, leisurely unbuckling his belt and pulling it free, before popping the button on his trousers and inserting a finger behind the zip to pull it down; Neville held his breath as Draco reached in and cupped himself, squeezing.

"Do you want to see what I've got for you, Neville?"

Neville nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

Draco turned around and oh so slowly pushing down his trousers, gradually bending at the waist until his arse was practically in Neville's face; he did a little wriggle of his hips and then straightened back up, kicking his trousers onto the ever-growing pile of clothes at the end of the bed.

"Perhaps you'd like to help me with the next bit,"

Draco was such a fucking tease but Neville couldn't resist, reaching out to run his hands down Draco's sides, brush over his hips, catch the waistband of his underwear and pull down. Draco was hard and weeping, so very ready for him, and Neville leaned forward and licked the tip of his cock, tasting him.

Draco groaned somewhere low down in his throat and stepped back.

"I want to come inside your arse, not in your mouth."

Draco was also incredibly crude, but his words made Neville's cock jump and so he slid back onto the bed, quickly struggling out of his own trousers and dropping them on the floor. Draco stared at him, studying him, and making Neville feel extremely self-conscious.

"Draco,"

Draco smiled and then climbed back up on the bed and, pushing Neville's knees wise, settled between them: "You really don't know how magnificent you are, do you?"

Neville honestly didn't know what to say, so instead he kissed him, and then they were once again rubbing against each other, their now naked bodies relishing the contact and crying out for more. Draco lifted Neville's knee up over his shoulder, and muttered a quick wordless spell, the tip of his cock pushing at the opening of Neville's arse.

"Just do it," Neville pleaded, and Draco surged forward into him.

Neville's hand grasped briefly at the bed sheet, before moving up to pull Draco down into another kiss.

Getting up from his desk after finalising yet another report for yet another department, Neville switched off the light and headed for the door; there was hardly anyone left at the Ministry at this time in the evening, which is why he almost pulled his wand when a shadow separated itself from the darkness by one of the pillars.

"Draco," Neville exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"

"Waiting for you," Draco replied simply, as if it was obvious. "I thought I'd pick you up this time,"

"Oh, right."

He hadn't seen Draco in a week and seeing him now made Neville realise how much he'd actually missed him.

"I thought maybe dinner, or something." Draco continued lightly, and Neville's mind quickly translated 'or something' into 'sex'.

"How about dinner and then something?"

"Even better, I'm famished."

Neville smiled.

And they fell into step with each other.

"The only thing is, I was thinking dinner at mine and I'm not entirely sure what I've got in the cupboards."

So this was a spontaneous decision on Draco's part.

"Ok, so dinner at mine then, because I do know what I have in my cupboards and I can actually cook it."

They were now out in the street, passing one of the newspaper stands that always sprung up around the Ministry building: he glanced to see what the evenings headline was and then wished he hadn't: _'Only his first mission as an Auror and the Lion of Gryffindor proves he can still roar!'_

"Oh god," Neville groaned. "How awful!"

He was certain he saw Draco's lips quiver in amusement but he suppressed it quickly.

"I can't even imagine what you would have done with a headline like that if we were still at Hogwarts."

Draco tensed a little and then relaxed again.

"If we were still at Hogwarts and someone had referred to you as the Lion of Gryffindor, I probably would have laughed, until I cried, and then laughed some more."

"Thanks, Draco - that's great." Neville replied sardonically.

"It's hard to believe that there's a whole generation of people out there that doesn't know you were once a silly, bumbling buffoon."

Neville didn't know whether to be indignant or laugh.

"I think we should change the subject now,"

They fell silent and Neville tried to ignore the surreptitious glances from passers-by in their direction.

"You don't mind being seen with me, do you?"

Neville looked at him in surprise: "Of course I don't; what kind of a question is that?"

Draco didn't answer.

They passed another newspaper stand and this time Neville deliberately looked in the opposite direction.

"It must get pretty annoying," Draco said and Neville knew he was referring to the media attention.

"I hate it!" Neville replied empathically. "I don't know if you saw all that stuff they wrote about me and...my ex." Neville still couldn't bring himself to say Justin's name without wanting to call him a lying, cheating bastard.

"I suppose you're referring to your very public and messy breakup?" Neville nodded. "Yes, I saw it." Draco continued. "And I have to say I enjoyed it far more then that lovey-dovey, oh we're so happy drivel."

Neville frowned at his tone but when Draco wouldn't meet his gaze he decided to let it drop for the time being.

"This is mine," Neville said, coming to a stop outside one of the three-storey townhouses.

To his credit, Draco's eyebrow only slightly quivered.

Neville took the few steps at a run and had the wards down before Draco joined him.

"After you."

Draco's eyes laughed at the turn of phrase.

Neville showed him to the living room and then headed into the kitchen.

"Do you drink beer?"

"If I have to," Draco replied.

Neville returned with two bottles and popped the tops, handing one to Draco.

"Maybe we could just get take-out," Neville said, once he'd sat down on the sofa and realised that he really didn't want to get back up again.

"Or maybe, we should just skip dinner all together."

"I thought you were famished."

"I am." Draco replied, leaning in and capturing his lips in a hungry kiss, running his hand up Neville's thigh, stopping just shy of his crotch. They kissed for a long time and in that time Neville came to appreciate just how starved he'd kept himself by staying away from Draco, his body craving Draco's touch like it was the only thing that mattered in the world.

Draco began to lean into him, pushing him back against the cushions but Neville had other plans, which didn't include him being on bottom. Draco growled slightly at Neville's resistance and Neville's cock thrummed at the sound, making him moan in response.

"Not this time, Draco." Neville breathed against his lips. "This time I'm on top."

Draco pulled back a little to stare at him and then he gave one of those dirty, husky laughs that Neville was quickly coming to adore.

"Whatever you want, Neville; I'm all yours."

They kissed again, hard and needy and passionate, their hands struggled with belts and buttons and catching zips, until soon they were both partially naked and very ready, Neville straddling Draco's waist, hands flat on his chest.

"Do you want me to ... ?" Neville shook his head, cutting Draco off.

"I've got this."

Draco's hands were on his thighs lightly caressing and Neville was getting harder with each passing second. He knelt up higher and moved back a little; hovering just above Draco's cock he muttered the quiet preparation spell, sliding down onto Draco as he did, so that his body opened to him bit by bit, the pain giving way to the pleasure perfectly, beautifully; he bit his lip and arched his back to nudge Draco deeper.

Draco's fingers dug into his thighs and Neville realised Draco was holding his breath.

"Just breath" Neville panted with a laugh. "It helps."

"Prick,"

Neville wriggled his hips slightly and they both gasped.

"You feel so good,"

"So do you," Draco agreed. "Do you plan on moving anytime soon?"

Neville chuckled: "Patience, Draco."

"Never one of my virtues, Neville."

And didn't Neville know that was true; the other times they'd been together, when Draco had been in charge, they'd been rampant - fast and hard and absolutely incredible; but tonight Neville was in control and he intended to take things slowly. He rose up on his knees until Draco was all but out of him, and then lowered himself once more, savouring the feel of Draco filling him again; taking his time, he began to ride Draco at a pace that, within minutes, started to drive them both mad.

"Neville," Draco warned, reaching up to grip Neville's waist and Neville was ready to let him take over; holding him in place, Draco thrust up into him, again and again and again, until all he could do was throw back his head and ride it out, their gasps and moans filling the room and making him wish he'd put up a silencing charm.

And then it was over and Neville sank down onto Draco, their chests heaving against each other, Draco's cock slowly sliding out of him, leaving him feeling empty and longing. Draco gently stroked his hair and Neville softly kissed his collarbone; and when they were able to do something more than just lay their in a boneless mess, Draco pulled him down beside him and kissed him, small butterfly kisses on his lips, his nose, his eyelids.

Neville wrapped his left leg around Draco's right and snuggled in against him, so comfortable that he could have slept; closing his eyes, he rested his head down on Draco's chest. It was then that the doorbell rang and Neville nearly jumped out of his skin.

"Just the doorbell," Draco muttered, his eyes still closed. "Ignore it."

A thing Neville would have been happy to do if it wasn't for the fact that it rang again and this time was accompanied by knocking. Neville reluctantly sat up and leaned over Draco to look at the door, just at the same moment as the letterbox flipped open and Harry called:

"I know you're in there, Neville; your lights are on."

"Shit!" Neville breathed.

Draco tensed underneath him but this time he didn't relax.

"I'm sorry, Draco; look, I'll just see what he wants and then I'll get rid of him."

Draco's expression remained unreadable and he didn't say anything as Neville climbed off of him and began to straighten his clothes. By the time Neville reached the front door, Draco was disappearing into the kitchen. Frowning, Neville pulled open the door just in time to stop Harry ringing the bell again.

"There you are," Harry said, his gaze questioning. "I was beginning to wonder."

Harry took in the slight sheen of sweat on Neville's skin and the flush on his cheeks, Neville feeling oddly exposed under his inspection.

"Did I interrupt something?"

Neville shook his head: "Are you ok?"

"Not really," Harry sighed, wondering into the living room and throwing himself down on the sofa. "Me and Ginny, we had another argument."

Neville's heart sank; from the sound of it, Harry was going to be here for the long haul, and as if to prove the point, Harry kicked off his shoes, and tucked his feet up under him on the sofa.

"I'll get us some beers," Neville said, that being the only reason he could think of to get away and talk to Draco.

"Great idea." Harry agreed and rested his head back on the cushions.

Neville deliberately tried not to think about what he and Draco had been doing against those cushions not that very long ago and entered the kitchen, closing the door firmly behind him; Draco was resting against the sink, his arms crossed loosely in front of him.

"Is he staying?"

Neville shrugged and shook his head: "He had an argument with Ginny."

Draco's expression said he really didn't care.

"You don't have to go, y'know; you could - "

"I could what - ?" Draco cut in, " - wait for you upstairs while you two have your little heart to heart?"

There was an edge to his voice that made Neville go on the defensive.

"I didn't know he was going to show up,"

"You should tell him to leave." Draco demanded.

"No, I shouldn't..." Neville replied "...he's my friend and he's going through a hard time at the moment."

"So I leave?" Draco asked. "I see."

Neville suddenly felt completely out of his depth.

"Draco, you don't have to leave."

"Neville," Harry called from the living room and Neville's gaze darted to the door. "Have you got lost in there?"

He looked back at Draco and Draco scowled at him.

"Oh, please, don't let me keep you from your precious Potter." he purred derisively, reminding Neville so much of the boy he used to be that for a moment Neville's mind went blank.

"Draco, please..."

"Neville?" Harry called again, and this time Neville shot daggers through the door; Harry just kept making it worse.

"Enjoy your evening, Neville."

Before he could think of anything to make it better, Draco had pulled open the backdoor and stepped out into the night air, he took a few steps and then apparated away, leaving Neville staring after him in a stunned silence, quietly coming to realise that he had probably just made the wrong choice.

Harry opened the door and peered in at him: "Are you ok?"

"Yeah, I just can't find the bottle-opener."

Harry pointed to it, where it lay clearly on the counter, and smiled at him.

"Having one of those days, eh?"

"You have no idea."

Neville grabbed two cold ones from the fridge, Harry grabbed the bottle-opener and they headed back to the sofa.

"So tell me, what did you argue about this time?" Neville asked taking a long swig from his beer and trying not to think about Draco.

Harry sighed.

"She's just being so hormonal - one minute she's fine and the next she's...completely irrational and then nothing I say makes a difference."

Neville could suddenly completely empathise but he doubted very much that he could blame pregnancy for Draco's behaviour. Neville settled back deeper and turned his head to look at Harry.

"She says it's all my fault that she's fat and has thunder thighs and huge ankles,"

"Well, in a way, it is - you do know how these things work, don't you, Harry?"

Harry shot him a look.

"And when I told her I thought she looked beautiful she threw a book at me and told me to get out," he continued as if Neville hadn't spoken. "But the thing is, Nev, she really is more beautiful to me right now, because she's carrying my baby, _our_ baby..." he corrected, looking at Neville like a little lost puppy.

Neville gave him a reassuring smile: "It'll be ok, Harry. It always is."

Harry took a long drink from his bottle: "I just can't wait for the little mite to be born now, and for thing's to get back to normal."

Neville doubted that once the baby was born their lives would return to anything like before - baby's had a way of changing everything.

"Well, in the meantime, you can crash here, if you like."

After all, if wasn't as if he had anything better to do now.

"Thanks mate."

"I'll get us another beer."

Sometime, much later that evening, and after many more bottles of beer, Neville said goodnight to Harry in the guestroom and woke up later that night to find Harry had joined him in bed; much like he had done when they'd been at school and the nightmares had got too much for him.

Neville lay there and listened to the heavy breathing of sleep, wishing that it was Draco snuggled up beside him instead of Harry.

As he was drifting back off to his own sleep he thought maybe Draco did have a point after all.

The next evening Neville dropped by _Skin_ to try and talk to Draco only to be told that Draco was with a private party, so he could either pay up and watch or come back later. Neville thought about it for a moment and then decided to stay, following a waitress to one of the private rooms at the back of the club.

Neville recognised the sensual beat of the music before he even entered the room, and when he did step beyond the curtain, he was all but swallowed up by it - the music and the spotlight and Draco. As with the first time Neville'd seen Draco dance, he couldn't take his eyes off him; the perfect contours of his body, moving to the perfect beat of the music.

Draco was currently kneeling between the legs of the man seated in front of him, his body moving against him in that fluid figure 8; he glanced up when Neville entered and his gaze hardened slightly, a look that Neville didn't take as a good sign. Draco deliberately looked away from him and slid down the body of man in the chair, rising again to flick his hair from his face and then move on to the lap dance part of his dance.

Neville didn't know whether to watch or look away, but something inside him said he wasn't happy watching Draco do that with a another man; his discomfort only growing, however, when Draco let the man pull him down into his lap and grind against him.

"Oh baby, you're so hot," the man crooned in Draco's ear and Draco leaned against him, hips still rocking, and swiped his tongue over those strange lips. Neville's heart twisted in his chest and he looked away, before leaving the room entirely. It took him several laps of the corridor to calm his breathing and even then he was still shaking a little; the only thought going through his mind on continuous repeat: Draco had known he was there.

The music slowly faded and shortly after the private party stumbled out into the corridor, the man who had received the dance grinning from ear to ear.

Neville went to the bar and ordered a firewhiskey over ice; a little while later Draco joined him.

"I didn't expect to see you tonight," Draco murmured before asking for the same, indicating Neville's drink.

"No, but you did see me."

Draco turned around and rested his back against the bar, arching in such a way that Neville's gaze was drawn to his stomach and pelvis.

Draco took a slow sip from his drink.

"Well, it's not as if we're exclusive, is it?"

And Neville felt the air leave his lungs in an exhale that was almost a sob; he breathed in again deeply.

"No, it isn't." He replied carefully.

So, he'd gone and done it again - fallen for a guy that didn't care about him, just about the sex; but at least Justin had had the decency to try and keep that fact a secret. And Neville wasn't about to go through it all again, with his eyes wide open this time.

"I just wanted to apologies about last night," Neville continued, determined to at least do what he had set out to do, before he walked away and brushed his hands of the whole thing. "You were right, I should have asked Harry to leave."

"Neville," Draco said, but Neville didn't want look at him and see that indifference in his eyes again. Neville knocked his drink back and stood up, turning his back on Draco, "Neville, wait." Draco beseeched. "I didn't mean it."

Now Neville did look up at him, and was surprised to see fear in Draco's eyes.

"I was angry with you for making me leave, or for not making him leave." Draco garbled. "I was angry that you choose him, and not me."

Neville stared at him.

"You don't know," Draco exclaimed, and he was certainly right about that - Neville didn't know what was going on now at all.

"Draco, what are you talk about?" Neville asked warily.

"I know that you slept with him,"

Neville's mouth fell open: "If you're talking about Harry, I most certainly didn't."

Draco gave an exasperated sigh: "Not last night, in fifth year."

Neville stared at him in shocked silence; nobody knew that and neither he, nor Harry, ever talked about it.

"Were you watching him?" Neville asked dumbfounded.

"What?" Draco exhaled. "No, I was not watching him, you silly prick; I was watching you."

"Me?" Neville repeated.

So, in the space of fifteen minutes he'd gone from thinking that Draco was only using him for sex, to learning that Draco had actually been - interested? - in him since school.

"When I realised that you'd let him touch you like that, I hated him even more." Draco continued. "I can't compete with him, Neville."

"You don't need to compete with him," Neville exclaimed. "What happened in fifth year, that was the only time, and it only happened because we were both extremely vulnerable then. There is nothing going on between me and Harry."

Draco searched his face as if trying to look into his mind and confirm that Neville was telling the truth.

"I promise I'm telling you the truth, Draco."

Draco inhaled and then relaxed.

"I've been a complete idiot," he breathed.

"Yes," Neville agreed, because Draco had almost lost him forever.

And the look on Draco's face said that he knew it.

"You're the only one I've been with since that bloody stag-do. You're the only one I want to be with..."

Neville knew he was probably pushing his luck but decided to go with it anyway: "Am I the only one you've ever wanted to be with?"

Draco searched his face again, and Neville could see his awkward embarrassment.

"I used to daydream, when we were in class together, potions or herbology, that maybe we'd get partnered together somehow and that you'd come to realise that I wasn't really all that bad, and maybe you'd let me kiss you."

Draco knocked back his drink and asked for another one.

"I never thought you'd ever let me fuck you."

"I never thought you'd ever want to." Neville replied, still finding what Draco was saying a little hard to digest. "You were always such an arsehole to me."

"It's like they say, right?" Draco muttered. "If a boy likes a girl, he pulls her pigtails and makes her cry."

Neville blinked and licked his lips.

"I used to run away when I saw you coming, I don't think your tactic worked very well."

And Draco laughed, a real and genuine laugh, that made Neville smile.

"I'm sorry, Neville."

"Ditto."

"Can we please be friends?" Draco purred, and Neville felt his gut twist.

"The next time Harry comes knocking on my door: he goes, you stay."

_Part 1 of ?_


End file.
